


the mockery we made of this life

by BeforeDawn



Series: we were ruins from the start [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeforeDawn/pseuds/BeforeDawn
Summary: The men of House Stark did not fall in love with whores. They were men made of honour and nobility, they simply did not do such things.Until Ned Stark did.





	the mockery we made of this life

He’s six and ten when Robert eventually drags him to a brothel.

Ned supposes that it was an inevitability, after all, Robert is Robert and there’s only so many times that a man can say no to the young Lord of Storm’s End. He thinks it might have been different had he grown up in Winterfell, but then again, Brandon’s reputation precedes him since his broken engagement to Catelyn Tully. So maybe his trip to a brothel was an inevitability in his life.

Robert claims that bringing him here is a name day present, his treat and any whore of Ned’s choosing. Only Robert would be on such friendly terms with a whorehouse that they’d agree to let him have the first pick on a night of his choosing.

It’s all a little silly, for his actual nameday had been three moons before – but he’d been at Winterfell then and had to suffer through both his Father’s and brother’s rage when the news came that Brandon’s fiancé had been caught bedding her Father’s ward by one his men. Shamed and disgraced, the engagement had been broken and the whispers were that she’d fled days later with the help of her uncle, the blackfish, and hadn’t been seen since. But everyone had been quickly placated with the betrothal of the eldest Stark to the youngest Tully daughter, the alliance between Winterfell and Riverrun remained intact. Though, the new engagement did nothing to stop Brandon’s wild behaviour, nor the news of his escapades travelling throughout the Seven Kingdoms.   

So, since Robert had been absent for his actual nameday, he’d claimed Ned the first free night he could find and dragged him down to the brothel and told him to have his pick.

That’d been over an hour ago now and Robert had gotten bored of Ned’s hesitation, grumbling that he’d better hurry up and bed a wench, so at the very least he might not look so dour all the time, before getting up and grouping the first woman he crossed paths with. He sighed and took a drink of his ale, thinking that he better just get this done and over with, as he knows Robert will not let it go until a girl takes him upstairs.

Ned scans the room. The ladies are all quite lovely, he thinks, well, most of them anyway and he’s really ought to just pick one so that Robert will leave him for another few moons before dragging him back down again because now he’s been once, Ned knows Robert will not let it be his last.

It’s then that he sees her.

It’s the flash of red that catches his eye at first. A rich colour, the likes of which remind him of the leaves that hang above the Godswood at Winterfell. His eyes follow her back, but he does not need her to turn around because he already knows she is beautiful.

When she does turn around, Ned is not disappointed. Her eyes are a deep shade of blue, her high cheekbones and heart-shaped mouth gave way to an alluring face. What does surprise him however, is her age. Most girls look to be at least eight and ten, but this one looks of age with him, perhaps even a little younger.

As she locks eyes with him, she seems to know what he wants, a false smile painted on her face as she steps forward. Silently, she walks over, and takes his hand, pulling him up from the seat. Entranced, he follows her, his mug of ale forgotten on the table as she leads him towards the stairs. He barely hears Robert’s whistles and jubilant shouts as she pulls him into a room.

The room is about as nice as he expected. A large bed lays in the centre of the room, though he notes it does not look terribly comfortable. A vanity lays against one of the walls, little trinkets scattered upon it – though he doesn’t imagine how much use it would be in a room as ill lit as this one.

Ned turns back to face her and realises that she is looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to have his way with her. He doesn’t know how to act, how to start this encounter. He licks his lips, suddenly finding his mouth dry despite having had a drink just moments before he’d spotted her.

She is beautiful, he thinks.

He can see her nipples, already hard through her thin shift, caused by the slight chill in the room and he hates himself a little for staring so intently at them, as he is not yet said a word to the woman in front of him. “I’d have your name, my lady.”

“I’m no lady.” She tells him, an amused smile playing on her lips. “But you may call me Cat, my lord.”

“Call me Ned.” He corrects, thinking that her calling him by any title other than his name seemed absurd in an encounter such as this. She nods, almost shyly, “Ned it is then.”

Silence settles between them once more and for a moment, Ned wishes he were Brandon, not as closed lipped and guarded as himself – for his brother would surely know what to do with a woman as lovely as the one stood before him to bring them both pleasure. But his fears are short lived as the girl – _Cat_ – presses her lips to his own, effectively silencing any thoughts running through his head.

It soft at first, almost sweet. But she quickly increases the intensity of the kiss and he pulls her flush against him, letting out a groan as he feels her curves against his body. His cock stirs in his breeches and, feeling bold, he scoops her up. She lets out a small squeal of surprise as he moves them towards the bed.

Though when she is laid on the bed before him, his earlier shyness returns as he looks down on her, with her beautiful copper hair spread around her like a halo. He gently tugs on the hem of her shift. “May I?” He asks and instead of answering, she just sits up and tugs it off herself, leaving her bare to him.

Whatever reservations he had evaporates as he leans forward and catches her lips once more, before lowering his attention to her neck and then down further to catch one of her dusty rose nipples in his mouth. He gently teases it, unsure of what he was doing as he circles his tongue this way and that, but when he hears her sigh of pleasure, he moves his attention to the other nipple and performs the same circling action of his tongue, earning him the same sound once more which shoots straight down to his cock.

Not wanting this to be over before it begins, he palms his member, hoping to relieve some of the pressure and not come in his pants before she’d even touched him like the green boy that he is. His fingers gingerly part her folds, an exploratory touch, finding her warm and soft. So very unlike that of its male counterpart, he thinks, sparing a glance to his cock straining against his breeches, rigid and rock hard.

She begins to protest a little when he slips a finger inside her. “You don’t have to –“

“I want to.” He tells her, surprised at how his voice comes out, almost like a growl. He’s shocked at how much he wants to please her, for this to be about her as much as it is about him. Ned furrows his brow a little as he tries to recall what Robert has said about things like this.

His moments start a little slow and unsure as he thrusts his finger in and out at an uneven pace her before slipping in another. He watches her face intently, looking for signs when his actions bring her pleasure and when they don’t. He eventually finds a rhythm and nearly comes when her muscles clench around his hand, she comes herself with a cry and he thinks it’s one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard.

Unable to wait any longer, Ned strips off his own clothes, leaving him as naked as she is. To his surprise, she tugs him back down towards her and pulls him into a kiss as he enters her, which earns him another groan of pleasure. He moves slowly at first, but his movements quickly pick up speed, her own hips rise to meet his own.

Thankfully, she has enough common sense to tell him to pull out and he’s glad, he would not want to risk getting a bastard on her. It only takes a few pumps of his hand before he spills himself all over her belly, collapsing on the bed next to her, his breathing laboured.

It sometime before Cat speaks, but when she does he can still feel his heart beating erratically and his breathing hasn’t quite returned to normal yet. “Did I please you, Ned?”

He turns his head to look at her, but she isn’t looking at him, instead staring at the ceiling, a lovely blush colouring her from her cheeks to her breasts, leaving them a lovely shade of rose. “Very much so, my lady.”

It’s only then that she turns to face him, to rebuke him for calling her a lady again he thinks, but her attention lands on his smile, a crack in his normally solemn exterior and she instead lets out a small laugh to which he is grateful.

He helps her clean herself up before he gets dressed, handing her the washcloth to wipe his seed from her belly and the mess between her legs. The awkwardness seems to rebuild itself with each layer of clothing he puts on, so much so that he can only bid her goodbye with a small nod of his head.

* * *

 

Ned finds himself returning to the brothel sooner than either he or Robert expected, both surprised by his eagerness to return. Robert had japed that Ned just couldn’t get enough now he’d had a taste and would become a frequent a member as himself and that between them they’d have fucked every girl there before his next nameday.

But Ned didn’t want any other girl there. He wanted Cat, with her ocean blue eyes and russet coloured hair, so after taking himself in his hand for two weeks straight at just at the thought of her, he’d decided to accompany Robert to his next trip.

He spots her straight away, her red hair making her stand out among the duller shades of brown. She’s pouring ale for another man, a smile sweetly plastered on her face as she laughs too loudly at a joke he makes.

He knows it false from all of them, they’re all paid to please men and he supposes that they hope for someone decent to see them through the night, but as he watches her flit about the room, something about the sultry vibe she tries to send out as she flirts with different patrons stands out as particularly put on and a part of him thinks that she was not meant for this.

Ned shakes himself out of his own musings, thinking he shouldn’t be so caught up with a girl he’s had once, especially not one that’s a whore at any rate. But then she looks up and spots him, their eyes locking across the room and suddenly he’s transported back two weeks ago as she makes her way towards him, but instead of the forced smile he saw last time, there is a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Cat guides him back to the room they’d been in last time and he leans into kiss her as the door swings shut, but she pushes him away with a shake of her head, a smile on her lips. “You watch this time, so maybe you won’t fumble as much with the next girl.”

He watches as she pulls off her shift and sits on the bed, pointing to the place in front of her and he moves to stand there. She pushes him down until he’s on his knees and she lays back, he wonders briefly what she is doing before she moves her own hand down to her folds, slipping a finger inside. He becomes an avid learner as he watches her slip in another, moving them in and out her cunt before she used her thumb to circle her nub, bringing herself to her peak much faster than he was able to and with a more intense cry than the one he’d coaxed from her two weeks before.

He wants her, badly. He wants her in that moment. But he also had a feeling that he was not done with his lessons quite yet. She switches their positions and strips him down to the waist and only then does she grant him her kiss. She then lowers her kisses down his body, circling each of his nipples with her tongue in turn and causing him to groan with pleasure. He knows he’s supposed to memorise the actions she took but he’s too lost in the feeling of her warm mouth leaving wet kisses all over his body, and when she takes him in her mouth, he cannot help but feel that there will not be a next girl.

Much to Robert’s joy and Jon Arryn’s dismay, Ned slowly becomes as much of a regular at the brothel as his friend is. The more he sees Cat, the more he wants her and when he can’t have her some nights, he beats out his sexual frustration in the training yard. He tries to tell himself that it’s not jealousy and rage at the thought of her with other men that drives him to train with steel instead of seeking the company of another, but the more he gets to know her, the more that becomes a lie.

He quickly learned how to please her, he got to know her body with an avid mind and was soon able to make her come with the same intensity that she brought upon herself. But he also takes joy in finding the person behind the mask that’s been so carefully put in place. The ice between them gradually began to thaw in the afterglow of their lovemaking and they eventually found a way to have conversation flow between them.

He knows she’s from further south, though she would not say where, she lost her mother at an early age like himself and she quite liked an occasional sweet. She also got cold very easily, especially when he throws open the windows to cool himself down in the aftermath of sex, complaining her rooms were too warm, to which she would laugh and tell him that he was the only one who thought that. So, he brought her up some extra furs one evening. He thinks that’s when he really saw behind the mask, the grateful tears (and what he hoped was affection) in her eyes gladdened his heart. But then when he thought about it later, it caused a pain in him, because it meant that no one had shown her some mere kindness in quite some time.

So, the next time Cat shivered under the furs after he cracked open the small window in her room, he crawled under them with her, a leg hanging out as he offered his body for extra warmth. She looks at him strangely and hesitates for a moment, before snuggling up close to him. Tentatively, Ned stroked a hand through her hair, watching as the strands fell through his fingers like a living thing. “Kissed by fire, the wildlings would call you.”

She looks at him then, her chin resting on his chest, a small smile playing on her lips. He feels his heart stutter as he takes in her beauty, her pale skin giving off a glow in the early dawn light. It strikes him that he does not want to leave.

“What would happen if I stay?” He blurts, and he cringes at how it comes out. His voice sounds colder and harsher than he’d meant. Not for the first time, Ned wishes that he was more like his siblings who all had a way with words that he did not.

But Cat simply laughs and rests her head on his chest. “It’ll cost you extra.”

In a stuffy little room in a whorehouse, Ned gets the best sleep he ever had.

 

* * *

 

There’s something off with Cat.

He didn’t notice it straight away. When he’d sat down for a drink with Robert, she’d come over and perched on his lap as per their little routine. Ned normally wasn’t one for displays of affection, but he’d quickly learned that if he wanted her to himself all night, the best way was to have her close at all times as scowling at every man who tried to come near her proved to be ineffective.

So, Cat sitting on his lap was nothing strange. They occasionally kept Robert company for a little while before he wandered off with a girl (or sometimes two) into a room to have his way. But when Robert did eventually leave, they did not disappear themselves as they usually do. Instead, they remained as they were and she continually filled up his cup before it was even emptied, though she knew Ned was not a drinker.

“Aalya looks lovely tonight, do you not think?” She said eventually, nodding towards the girl in the sea green gown standing behind the bar. “She expressed interest in you just the other day, my lord.”

He furrowed his brow at her words, sparing only a glance towards Aalya before looking back at her, perched prettily on his lap. “She is not as lovely as you.” He said simply, grinning a little to himself at the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“I know you seem to think so, but do you not get tired of the same girl all the time? Would you not like to sample another?” Her words shocked him, she’d never expressed discontent in his persistence to see her in all the moons he’d been coming here. He wondered if he’d misconceived the connection between them, that he had not seen true smiles and laughs from her in the confines of her bedroom, that she only saw him as another client, just someone who paid for the pleasure of her body. “I could never tire of you, unless the problem is that you’ve tired of me?”

Ned holds his breath, not knowing what he’d do if she said that she no longer wished for him to visit her any longer. He wouldn’t come down, if that’s what she wanted, but he knows the thought of her being so close but unavailable will torture him as he paces the floor of his room at the Eyrie. He would not have her unwilling.

Her face softens as she looks down at him, a hand coming to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. “No Ned, you’re one of the few things I don’t tire of around here.”

That seems to settle that, then and he stands them both up, offering her his hand to lead them up to her room. He does not miss the slight hesitation before she takes it.

She immediately goes to the little decanter of wine she keeps in the corner as soon as they enter the room. “Another drink then?” She asks him, flashing a grin over her shoulder. The little bubble they had entered moments ago seemed to have once more vanished, her mask from the beginning of the evening had been put back in place.

Ned frowns, taking another step into the room and swinging the door shut. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk.” She doesn’t reply, just simply stares at the wall instead of looking back at him with a witty retort of her own. He walks towards her, “Cat? Tell me what’s wrong.” He places his hands on her shoulders and does not miss the sharp intake of breath as he does so.

His frown deepens, trying to process what would have caused such a reaction. He noticed the back of the dress, the ties were not done as tightly as they usually are and the dress hung loosely on her form, something that had escaped his notice before. He gently moves her hair out the way and opens the back of her dress, horrified at what lies beneath her gown.

Angry red whip marks are fresh on her back, some deep enough that he can see that they’ve been stitched back up. He clenches his jaw, red clouding his vision as he tries to process that someone’s done this to her, to his Cat. He wants to scream and rage, he wants to cradle her gently and never let go. He’s so wound up in his own thoughts that he almost misses it when she starts to speak.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, really. I’d thought mayhap you wouldn’t notice if you were in your cups – but you are not like other men, you wouldn’t take all the drink I gave you.” He continues to frown, hating the way her voice wavers as she speaks. He gently traces a finger over one of the scars that is not too deep, but it still causes her to let out a hiss of pain.

“Who?” He demanded, wanting to rip the man limb from limb for so much as daring to raise a hand towards her. How dare he? He is blessed with her company for a night and he does _this_ to her. The man did not deserve to live.

But she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, he comes in every few weeks and asks for a girl. We all take turns and last night had been mine, the madam only allows it because he pays good coin and we need the money.”

Ned had wanted to argue that it did matter because he would not rest until vengeance had been seen to. But he can see she’s upset and she shivers lightly at the small breeze coming through the open window. He crosses the room to shut it and as he does, he notices the little healing balm laying on her vanity, presumably for the scars on her back.

He nods towards the bed. “Lie down, my lady.” He grabs the jar and watches as she makes her way towards the bed. He watches as she sits and then lowers herself down onto her elbows. “No!” He yells, startling her and making her freeze. “I’d have you lie on your front, my lady, so your back does not pain you.”

Cat nods and changes position, turning herself over and laying down on her belly per his request. He gently kneels above her and brushes her hair off her back once more before unscrewing the ointment and dipping his fingers in, applying it to her back.

She moves to get up in protest when she realises what he is doing, “my lord! This is not what you pay for –“ Ned gently pushes her shoulders down. “Sssh.” He tells her, leaning forward to place a kiss on the crown of her head. “Tonight, I’m paying to take care of you.”

They are both silent for sometime after that, apart from her occasional sighs of relief as the balm starting to sooth her wounds and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been paining her while they’d sat downstairs, cursing himself for not noticing something was off with her earlier in the evening. But at least he has an answer for why she’d been trying to pawn him off on Aalya and a part of him almost wishes that it was her getting sick of him, that he’d be the one hurting instead of her.

“This wasn’t the plan, you know.” He waits for her to continue, her voice has taken on a dreamlike quality he did not want to disturb, he wanted to know all the thoughts that ran through her head, if she would allow it. Luckily for him, she continues to speak as he continues his efforts to apply the balm to every inch of her back. “I had a different life once, a good father, a beautiful castle where I grew up – I was even engaged. But I gave it all up, for my sister. She was caught you see, with a boy by one of my father’s men, but the man who told my father of it never saw her face just her hair. So, I took the blame, our hair was similar enough in colour that no one questioned it. My uncle took me away – he didn’t want me to have to face the shame, but we were separated on the road by bandits and I ended up here.” She stopped and took a breath, he could only see half her face and watched as a tear rolled down her cheek, he badly wanted to wipe it away, to take any hurt from her that he could, but he felt her story was not yet finished and so resisted the urge to do so.

“This definitely was not the plan, but I had no money left and I couldn’t find anywhere to pay. One of the girls found me and offered me a job here, said that I was pretty enough. I wasn’t going to do it, but I had no other options and it wasn’t so bad after the first few times.”

He finished applying the balm as she spoke, screwing the lid back on and wiping the oil off on his breeches. He frowned, trying to process everything she just said, but one thing didn’t add up. “Why? Surely your sister’s husband would notice she is no maiden when they marry.”

She startles a little at his voice, almost as if she had forgotten his presence. She bites her lip, a habit he’s noticed that she does when she’s thinking of what she was about to say next. “But you see, my sister was a maiden, her and the boy hadn’t actually been having sex, they were just doing…other things. But word had already spread at that point so it would not matter if my father denied it, no one would believe him and he’d have a ruined daughter. As to why I said it was me, I had found some happiness in my engagement and my sister was always a little jealous I think, so I said I was with the boy, so she would have the chance to find happiness too. Family always comes first.”

Ned stared down at her in awe, marvelling at the bravery of the young woman before him to tell such a lie, a lie that ruined her life, so that her sister had a chance at being happy. With a start, he realises that all he wants is to make her happy. That if the one thing he ever accomplishes is to bring a little happiness into her life, then he will die a happy man.

Ned realises that he’s fallen hopelessly in love with her.

He lays down and pulls her onto his chest gently, hoping not to jostle her around too much as to cause injury. He strokes her hair and tries not to imagine what their babes would have looked like, had she remained a lady, had they met differently. “You were brave.” She laughs gently in reply as her eyes begin to droop shut and sleep began to claim her. “Some would say I was foolish.”

Ned Stark never does make the connection to the story Cat tells him and that of Catelyn Tully.

 

* * *

 

Ned has no idea how he ended up here.

Well, he’s aware of _how_ he ended up here, as to the why, he’s a little hazy.

It had all started with Brandon – or Ashara Dayne – it depends on how you look at it. All the Stark siblings had been once again reunited at the Great Tourney of Harrenhal. Ned had been overjoyed to be with all his siblings once more, having been moons since he’d seen them last, just before he’d turned eight and ten, and the four of them had spent the day making jests at each other as if no time had passed at all (well, the others made jests more than he did, preferring to keep silent and watch them).

Robert had spent the day either mooning over Lyanna or mooning over the nearest maid with big teats when he thought she wasn’t looking. His friend had joined him on his last visit to Winterfell and became besotted with his sister, finalising an engagement with his father before the four moons were up. Thought Ned loved Robert as a brother, he did not necessarily approve of the match, thinking that his friend did not truly see his sister as she was.

The engagement of Lyanna and Robert was not the only reason that he did not look back on his last visit home with great fondness. He’d missed Cat fiercely, as he always did when he left the Eyrie for visits to his family, but four moons were the longest time they’d spent apart since he’d known her and he felt her absence keenly. Brandon had tried to get him to come to the brothel with him as Robert had refused to attend with the intent of making a good impression on his Father, but Ned had also refused, knowing that he did not want any woman but the one who’d kissed his lips sweetly and told him that she would miss him the night before he left.

She’d done more or less the same thing before he’d come to Harrenhal. She’d smiled at him and told him not to be gone too long or she may just freeze to death without him to keep her warm through the night.

Ned shook himself from his memories, thinking that they did not help him now, in a dark corridor with a woman’s hand unlacing his breeches.

After the Stark siblings had spent most of the day with each other, they joined in with the feast and dancing later in the night. Well, the others did, while Ned stood awkwardly at the side watching his siblings dance and laugh.

Ashara Dayne was hard not to notice, with her hair as black as the night sky and her laughing violet eyes, she was beautiful as she twirled on the dance floor with Barristan Selmy and Oberyn Martell. Brandon had caught him staring at her when he came for a drink and decided to ask her for a dance on his behalf.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to go out on the dancefloor with her, common courtesy at not wanting to refuse a lady, or perhaps that he was more in his cups than he’d ever been, or maybe it was just down to how beautiful she was. But he takes her in his arms for a dance and he has no idea what he says, but she laughs and he catches himself imagining for a moment that the hair that fell down her shoulders was red instead of black.

They eventually leave, he has no idea who suggested it, but her hand was warm in his as she led him into a dark corridor and pushed him against the wall, claiming his mouth with his own. Automatically, he closes his eyes and pulls her flush against him and suddenly he’s back in the Vale of Arryn, in a dingy room where the window barely lets in light – or air for that matter, for it provides so little when he swings it open, desperate for some fresh air to reprieve him of the stale air and scents of other men that linger in her room and the deft fingers that stroke his beard and reach down his body belong to a woman with paler skin and russet hair.

But when she reaches for his breeches he opens his eyes and is startled to find violet ones staring up at him instead of blue. Ned pushes her back abruptly and shakes his head. “I’m sorry my lady I cannot…”

To his surprise Ashara laughs, shaking her head at him. “If you worry for my honour my lord, you need not, my honour has long since been taken.”

He’s horrified with himself to admit that he had not spared a thought for her honour, the only thought plaguing him was that he was betraying Cat by being with Ashara. Which is a little insane, he admits to himself, considering what she does for a living.

That thought angers him, that she should lie with so many yet he cannot bring himself to do more than kiss another woman without the thought of betraying her stabbing through his gut as painfully as a knife. He almost wants to do this now, to be able to prove _something_ to himself, that he’s not so damnably in love with a woman that he can never have.

But as he looks at her, all he can think of is how wrong it is. “It is not your honour I take, it is mine.” She looks confused at that, but he cannot possibly explain that he betrays his honour when he betrays the woman who holds his heart, no matter what her profession was, because while the night may be beautiful, Ned found that he much prefers the sun.

So he walks away, leaving her confused in the corridor. He resolves himself to enjoy the rest of the tourney and the time with his siblings, even though he knows the whispers of what people assume would have happened between the two of them will follow him from the rest of his time here, and maybe even after that.

Ned’s intention to enjoy himself does not last long however, as Rhaegar Targaryen rides past Elia Martell and lays the crown of love and beauty on his sister’s lap.

Though he does not know it then, the world shifts.

 

* * *

 

He’s exhausted on his arrival back to the Eyrie.

Brandon and Robert had been unable to hide their rage as they travelled back and they had often expressed tearing the young prince apart limb by limb for his actions and Ned found he had to agree. But he had been less vocal in his anger, his mouth setting to a hard line and eyes turning cold, hardly speaking a word. He briefly remembers how Cat had teased him about it when another patron had got too handsy with her and he’d punched him in the nose. She’d led him back to her room to tend to his bruised knuckles and said that expression made him look like the proper lord he was. She’d then kissed his bruised knuckles before kissing the side of his mouth. He was still angry, but her kiss had warmed him as it always did and his expression softened.

They’d made love softly that night, tender kisses and gentle caresses until they were both breathless. When they were tucked under the furs later, she’d told him that she was glad that he was here with her and not the other man. He’d smiled so broadly at that he feared his face might split in two.

Ned longs to go see her now, to wrap himself in her arms and lose himself, if only for a little while. But Robert’s rage still howls as loudly as the wind outside as he paces in Jon Arryn’s solar, so as much as he needs Cat, Robert needs him more.

It’s almost three weeks after his arrival back before he makes it down to the brothel. He’d longed to see her, so much that it ached his bones and she filled his every waking moment as well as those he spent asleep. But there had simply been no time, Jon had filled both their days, Ned assumes he’s trying to occupy their minds to save them thinking on other matters, such as the events of Harrenhal. Not only had the whispers of Rhaegar and Lyanna followed them back, but also those of Ned and Ashara. Jon wanted to ask, he knew, but respected him enough not to intrude on his privacy and for that Ned was glad because he can only imagine the look on the face of his second father’s face when he tells him that he did not bed her, though not for the sake of her honour, but for the sake of his love for a whore.

By the time Ned found himself with any free time at all, he’d been exhausted, and he was lucky that he made it from the hall to his rooms after his meal every night without collapsing. So, despite his longing for Cat, he’d not been able to see her until this night.

It’s late by the time he makes it down there, much later than the times he has been before. He looks around for her, desperate for a glimpse of the red hair he’s come to love nearly as much as the woman herself. He must look like a madman, he thinks, as he desperately scans the crowd for any sign of her, for Aalya comes over to him almost as soon as she spots him wildly looking around the room. “She’s in her room.” She tells him with a nod to the stairs. “Alone.”

Ned nods his thanks and starts towards the stairs, taking them two at a time until he’s on the landing and making a beeline towards her room, knocking on the door harder than he’d intended. He hears her sigh and the scraping of her chair as she makes her way towards the door.

“I’ve already told you no Robett, now are you going to accept that or –“ Whatever she was going to say next dies on her lips when she sees Ned and not Robett standing on the other side of her door. He frowns, wondering what man would dare come back to a lady – to _his_ lady – when he’d already been refused. But his frown is soon erased from his face as she lets out a grateful cry and pulls him into the room.

Ned finds himself against the door as soon as it shuts, her lips on his with a force and ferocity that he’s never seen from her before. He eagerly opens his mouth for her, moaning at the familiarity as her tongue slides against his own in a dance they’ve long since perfected.

Cat quickly moves her lips from his and begins to nip and suck along his neck, hard enough to leave marks on his skin. He knows that it will bring japes from Robert and likely the stable boys tomorrow, but he finds that he cannot bring himself to care.

His shirt is off before he can really comprehend that it’s happening and he quickly tugs off her shift so that he can feel her breasts flush against the skin of his chest. He feels her reach down to unlace his breeches and Ned flips their positions, so it is now her back against the door instead of his. He hoists her legs up around his waist as she pushes them down. He enters her with a quick thrust and she lets out a satisfied cry. It does not take long for either of them to reach their peak, with his mouth against her neck and her nails dragging down his back, hard enough to draw blood.

He remembers to pull out just in time, wrapping an arm around her back to keep her up while she reached down and finished him off with her hand, his seed spilling messily between them.

After, when they’d cleaned themselves up and she’d assured him that he’d caused her no pain by taking her against the door, she lay against his chest, buried under furs to keep her safe from the breeze that flowed in from the open window. She traced patterns along his chest with her finger as her hair tickled his nose from where she lay, he could not create a more peaceful moment if he tried.

“I suppose you’ll marry her then.” She said, his hand stilled from where it was travelling up and down her back, confusion evident on his face. She tilts her head to look at him, blue meeting grey and he can see the hurt and insecurity she’s trying to mask in her eyes. “After all, you are not the kind to bed a lady and then not take her to be your wife.”

It takes Ned longer than it should for him to decipher that she’s speaking of Ashara Dayne and the events at Harrenhal. He shakes his head and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I am not.” When he pulls back, he can clearly see the hurt on her face now, she makes no effort to hide it. “But you are the only women I have ever bedded, and I have no thoughts of marrying anyone at present.” _Apart from you, Gods Cat! If fate had only allowed me to marry you_.

She smiles then and it’s full of pure joy that all he can do is smile back at her, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. They were of no use, if she had stayed a lady as she was meant to, she surely would have married someone far better than a second son.

* * *

 

Ned is surely broken.

Robert’s rage is louder than thunder, and perhaps just as lethal. A war is starting, men bustle with the anticipation of it, for nothing bands together men faster than a common enemy. But as Robert’s rage is seen by all, Ned’s seems to be hardly there at all.

In truth, he has no idea what he feels. His father is dead. Brandon is dead. Lyanna is gone. The world has shifted and, for better or worse, he fears that it will never be the same again.

He wishes he could scream and curse and cry like Robert. But his grief seems to be frozen within him and all he can feel is numb. He can hear his brother’s japes about his frozen exterior and telling him that he should drink or bury his cock in a cunt, anything to heat him up a bit. He knows the anger that would well inside him at his brother’s well-intended joke and he’d give anything to feel that anger instead of the emptiness he feels now.

Empty. That’s what he is and if empty is all he feels then surely he is broken.

It doesn’t really hit Ned that’s he’s Lord of Winterfell, the place that’s been a dream of home for so long, until they’re in Jon’s solar, discussing which families they think will take arms with them against their king.

“Hoster Tully is a difficult man to place,” Jon says, a frown on his face. “Of course, there was the engagement between Brandon and his daughter, but that no longer stands. Unless you decide to take up the contract yourself Ned.”

He’s still trying to recover from the ever-present sting whenever someone reminds him of yet another missing family member before he fully digests what’s been suggested. Marriage. To a Tully. He has to marry someone for their bannermen because he’s the Lord of Winterfell. Not his Father. Not Brandon, who’d been made for battles and ruling men. But himself, Lord Eddard, the second son.

Unbidden, his mind drifts to babes with his eyes and Cat’s hair, her belly swollen as the snow drifts around her, her fiery mane adding colour to the white and grey of the north.

He swallows thickly, determined to put all thoughts of her aside. This was not a matter of the heart, a war had begun and, as it turned out, no one whom Ned loved seemed to be spared from the cost of it. _Except for Benjen_ , he thinks, glad that his brother was safely tucked away at Winterfell, that if all went to plan, he would see his brother become a man.

“You think this is the only way?” Both Robert and Jon nod, their faces grim and serious. “I will draft a letter to Lord Tully in hopes of marrying his daughter, then. I’ll write it first thing on the morrow. We should sleep now, we’ll be no use to anyone if we’re too exhausted to think straight. “

It comes as no surprise when Hoster accepts the offer and Ned has to start his journey to Riverrun within the week.

He resolves himself not to see her. That he will not disrespect his betrothed by bedding with a whore. But his heart screams at the logic in his mind. _Do not call her a whore_ , his mind screamed, _she is more than that and you know it._

His resolve breaks on the night before he is set to leave. He paces his room because every time he closes his eyes he either sees blue eyes and a smile more honest than her profession would allow or his sister, alone and scared, screaming for him to come and save her. Ned cannot decide which torture is worse.  

He’s on his horse riding down the Vale before he really has time to talk himself out of it. When he arrives, she is there, as always, serving behind the bar. Her eyes snap up to his and she whispers something to another girl before heading for the stairs, he follows without question to the little room he’s come to know so well.

Cat wraps him in her embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet smell of it. “I’m sorry Ned.” She whispers into his chest, squeezing him more tightly and soothingly stroking his back. He realises that this is the first time since he’d heard of his father’s death that he’s felt safe.

They stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for an immeasurable amount of time. Ned tries to remember everything about her, the freckles on the pale skin of her shoulder, the way the sight of her hair warmed him more than any fire ever could and, when she tilts her head to meet his eyes, the exact shade of the summer sky that they were. It’s funny, he thinks, because they’ve always been running on borrowed time, but it never seemed real before. He’s leaving and only the Gods know if he’ll survive this war and everything suddenly seemed so _real_. He thought himself a man before, but he knows that to be a lie because, since the news of his Father and his brother, he knows in his bones that he is still a boy.

“I’m to be married.” He whispers because he’ll have her know the truth of it and not have her guess what’s happened to him by the rumours. She deserves his truth.

“I know,” Cat whispers back, her eyes shining with the tears that she will not shed. She’s being strong for him and he thinks that he’s never been more in love with her. “The Tully’s are a good lot.”

Ned closes his eyes then, because him talking about marriage is one thing, but Cat acknowledging it makes it all the more real somehow. Maybe it’s because he always believed that as long as they never spoke of what would be, they could remain in their little fantasy of what could have been. But the fantasy is broken now, just like the rest of the world.

He nods because he cannot find the strength in himself to answer her. Ned wants to tell her that she’s the only one he’ll ever want. That he’s doing this because he’s so _damn_ angry at the whole mess. He’s angry at Rhaegar for taking his sister. He’s angry at Brandon for going to King’s Landing just days before he was due to marry. He’s angry at the King for having the audacity to burn his family. He’s angry at Robert, for having his grief so plain to everyone while Ned’s did not seem to exist to others.

He’s angry at her, for taking the blame for her sister and not being the lady she was meant to be. For not being someone that he could have to himself.

He opens his eyes to her another time and it dawns on him that this will be the last time he’ll ever truly be Ned. When he leaves this room, he’ll forever be Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The thought terrifies him, because he was never meant to be anything more than a second son who took some holdings in the North and married whom his Father and brother saw fit.

He was supposed to be nobody, he has no idea how to be a somebody. He can’t be Brandon, there’s nothing that binds them except brotherly love and the shared Stark look.

It fits, however, that if this is the last time he’s ever just Ned, then it should be with Cat. For Ned was made in this room as much as he was made in Jon Arryn’s practice yard with a wooden sword. For in this room he learned to be strong and gentle, he learned how to soothe wounds and heal her hurts. She taught him how to love and he thinks that he’ll never have a gift as precious as hers.

He kisses her, soft at first, almost sweet – like the first time they’d ever kissed in this very same room. But it grows in desperation and soon he’s pushing her down on the bed, hiking up her skirts and pulling down his breeches. It’s fast and desperate, she comes with a mewl much like the creature she is named for and he tries to memorise her face, the way her body arches up to his when she reaches her climax, how her nails scratched his scalp when he took her a second time, slower, his lips trying to cover every inch of her skin.

He leaves in the early dawn when he thinks she is asleep, like always, he goes to leave the coin on the dresser next to the door, but as he is about to place it, he hears her voice. “No, Ned. Last night was not an act of service…” She doesn’t finish her sentence because to hear it now would just be too cruel to both of them, but he hears it all the same. _It was an act of love_.

Ned takes her in, her hair flying in all directions and her lips plump from being kissed. She holds the furs he gave her once upon a time just up to her chest, the pale skin of her shoulders luminous in the light.

She is beautiful, and, as he turns to leave, she is gone.

He wonders what cruel trick of fate the Gods are playing on him, to make him lose everyone he loves without any warning. _Except for Benjen_ , he chants again like a prayer, _he is safe, you have not lost him._

 _You didn’t lose Cat either_ , the voice whispers, going from a soft prayer to a cruel taunt, _she was never yours to begin with_.

But he must leave the past behind him, it will serve him no purpose in the war that looms over the world like a dark cloud. The past is no use to him now, he cannot change it and it will only be more of an enemy than a friend on the cold lonely nights ahead.

It dawns on him much later that the last time was the only time he’d ever spilt his seed inside her.

When he sees Lysa Tully in the sept, he tries desperately not to think of Cat. He succeeds, until they’re in the bedchamber and Lysa is trying to cover up her modesty with her hands, but all Ned can think of is how her hips don’t curve enough and her hair isn’t the right shade of red. He is a traitor to his marriage vows from the first, because while he beds Lysa Tully Stark, he thinks of a woman with eyes a lighter shade of blue.

Ned truly breaks his vows when he brings home a bastard to his wife, who so recently lost a child of their own creation during the early months of her pregnancy. A horrible part of him is glad, because he wondered if he would ever be able to look at the child without thinking of Cat.

He thinks the same of Jon Snow and his sister. He hopes he will come to view him as son and not nephew.

In a stuffy brothel room in the Eyrie, Robb Stone’s cries cut through the dark of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS WAS MEANT TO BE SHORTER but whatever.  
> I really enjoyed writing this and I know it's not terribly long but I'm pretty proud of what I did here. I might even do a sequel because I fell pretty far down the rabbit hole into this verse.  
> For those interested, Don't Give Me Those eyes will also be updated soon.  
> As per, unbeated fic so any mistakes are my own, Also lemme know any advice or comments on the smut as its my first time writing it and I wanna know what you guys think.


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